


Pills Won't Stop the Little Voices

by AbbeyTheWeeb



Category: Baseball RPF
Genre: Boston Red Sox, Depression, First Kiss, M/M, Self-Esteem Issues, Self-Harm, Suicide Attempt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-23
Updated: 2019-10-19
Packaged: 2020-05-16 21:12:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 11,065
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19326199
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AbbeyTheWeeb/pseuds/AbbeyTheWeeb
Summary: Brock knew that Andrew was suffering a bit. He knew that the outfielder started really showing his stress after striking out multiple times. He even heard the words that normally that old Drew Pomeranz used to say.“I’m the worst person in this team.”At first, Brock thought he misheard something. Something that was done from his imagination. Time passed on. Andrew’s frustration was shown in his actions now. Brock started to believe that Andrew actually said it.





	1. Chapter 1

Andrew shifted. He was never close to his best friend, so this was new to him. By meaning close was by meaning that they were in the same bed.

How did this happen? Pills.

It was the end of the day, and Brock was out with J.D. hanging out. Andrew was by himself. With no one to talk too. 

He was normally fine with being by himself, but these past few months were awful. It started when they were in Florida. That “it” was bad thoughts being so terrible. Those bad thoughts said to him that he was never enough. They commented about his appearance, the way he played.

The worst of all was the conversations they had to him was that people hated him. Despised him. 

Now, Andrew always had these thoughts since middle school. He could understand why they are in middle school, and they tamed down when he started to get confidence in high school. The thoughts wavered through him time from time in his career.

Then spring training happened. He didn’t think they would be like this. The only thing that made him feel good was Brock.

Brock Holt. He was an attractive second basemen, but he could play anywhere. Andrew had a crush on him. Many people did, but Andrew knew that no one would have the special connection they had.

That special connection was him helping, saving his life over and over again. The past season he had multiple attempts. Andrew had so many chances for killing himself. A text from Brock would always save him. 

 

Hey Benny !! You wanna eat out at this restaurant?

Andrew, how ya feeling ?? I miss you

You did so good at the game!! I'm so jello!!

 

With those texts, Andrew would put the pill bottle down and begin texting. He would normally cry when he did it. He never thanked Brock for doing this countless times. These suicide attempts were secret. 

But there he was. In his room. Alone. 

There was one thing that Andrew hated when Brock texted him when he was in the middle of an attempt. Andrew would keep on living, existing, being apart in the world. 

Days went on, and the thoughts just got worse. He thought even his own teammates turned on him, always hated him. He knew he still had Brock, but the thoughts had consumed him.

He was Brock’s burden. 

He could remember the last time he saw the attractive friend, or the one that Andrew was burdened with, so clearly. It was an hour ago.

“Alright, J.D. is finished changing!” Brock smiled, his teeth radiating. He was finished shaving his stubble off his face and he put his phone in his pocket. “I’m gonna leave. You need anything?”

A gravestone and a funeral, please. That’s what Andrew screamed in his head. “No. Maybe some chips? I would like those.”

Brock giggled. “Anything for you.”

Andrew then looked straight forward. He was in the bathroom and he was facing a person for a long time he detested. His square ugly jawline, the dark hairstyle no one liked, and the dark, tired eyes that were showing a long battle that was being lost. 

“Why do you keep looking at yourself in the mirror?” the blonde asked, being cheeky. “You already look great!”

‘He’s lying. You look awful.’

Brock must have seen the small twitch of despair in Andrew’s eyes, since he calmly spoke, “Benny, are you okay?”

“Yes.” Andrew quickly squeaked, he didn’t want to seem damaged by others. 

“You sure? Andrew you’ve been disappointed in yourself recently. I know, it’s fine, you can-”

“Brock, I am fine.” 

The voice that came out of the suicidal player’s mouth seemed so strong it immediately shut up the other. Andrew at first was happy that he got Brock to shut up, but then quickly felt guilt crawl up his spine. He wanted to apologize so bad, but he knew if he said a peep he would go into tears. He looked away, hoping Brock would understand.

He did. 

“I’m sorry. See you later. I’ll text you when we are finished for dinner.” Then a loud creak was followed by a bang by a door. Andrew turned his face around, and when he saw that Brock wasn’t there, he made small streams from his eyes.

Those small streams became waterfalls. 

‘Why did you do that? He hates you now, you fucking burden. No one likes you. It’s better if you could just die. Take those pills.’

“No, no, no!” Andrew tried to fight back by screaming. He exited out of the bathroom and shut the bathroom door with a slam. He collapsed in his bed, which he sometimes called the place where he cried for hating himself.

He did this at least two times a day. 

So that was where Andrew was. His eyes were dried for a second time now, since in the middle of that hour he started crying again. He could hear the thoughts over and over, and he didn’t even get a small text from Brock. 

“He does hate me.” Andrew whispered to himself. Then he whispered the words that he’d never said, even before attempts. “He won’t get in my way this time, it’s my time.”

+++++ 

“J.D.?”

The blonde looked at the person who was in the passenger seat. Dinner was fine. At least Brock thought it was going to be. But then the thing with Andrew happened. 

Brock knew that Andrew was suffering a bit. He knew that the outfielder started really showing his stress after striking out multiple times. He even heard the words that normally that old Drew Pomeranz used to say. 

“I’m the worst person in this team.”

At first, Brock thought he misheard something. Something that was done from his imagination. Time passed on. Andrew’s frustration was shown in his actions now. Brock started to believe that Andrew actually said it. 

“Yeah?” J.D. responded to him. They stared for a good solid minute. Brock for some reason couldn’t get the words out. But then he said them in a scared stutter. 

“D-Do you think Andrew is depressed?”

The truck went silent again. J.D. looked away, and Brock understood why. He would never just ask someone, “Hey does my best friend have a mental illness called depression?”

But he just did. 

Then J.D. spoke. “He has been really, I’d rather say sad about how he is doing. But, if it’s depression, it might be the case. Why are you asking?”

Brock could still remember the face. The beautiful dark hair, perfect jawline, and pretty hazel eyes. But his mouth was curved in a way like he had no energy in him. “He looked sad when he was staring at the mirror, so I thought he was, I don’t know commenting about his appearance? So I mentioned how I noticed he was sad recently, and he snapped.”

“Benny isn’t a person to snap.”

Brock lifted his palm to put on his mouth, and slowly dragged it down to his chin. “Well, he did. He said, ‘Brock, I’m fine’ or something like that. And he was loud.”

“That’s why my eyes looked a bit wet when I came to pick you up.” Brock continued. “I’m worried about him.”

J.D. whispered, his voice barely even heard by Brock. “You still haven’t told him that you like him? Right?”

Brock shook his head. Who would not like the young player. Pretty. Great personality. No wonder why he had so many fans gushing over him. Brock had never met such a perfect person. 

“Tell him.” J.D. nodded. “Maybe he’ll like that. I obviously don’t know Andrew as good as you. You gotta ask yourself, what will make him happy.”

+++++

 

'This is the only thing that will make you happy. Those things in the bottle. Right there.' 

There Andrew was. For the eighth time. Or eleventh. Somewhere in between that.

But he was there. Looking at himself in the mirror. Doing the same stuff he always did before he got those things in his hand. Crying. Writing a quick note. This time, Andrew didn’t check is the grammar was correct or if the spelling was correct. He almost wanted to stick the pen his arm when the ink started to get blotched by his tears. 

 

Hi.  
I’m sorry I’m doing this, but I hope it’s best for everyone. I’m sick of being a burden for you guys. I can’t always hate myself. Tell my parents that I love them and I wish them well. Please tell my little sister that life goes on, and I did this to myself. Brock, I’m mostly sorry about you, since you always had to deal my stress. I love you guys, I’m sorry that I couldn’t be the best I could be.

Andr

 

The “ew” was blotched out by tears. 

Andrew sighed as he wiped the rainstorm of tears on bis cheeks. The cheeks he always thought were fat and atrocious. He shut the bathroom door, but he didn’t lock it. 

Brock was probably not going back to the apartment after what happened. 

Andrew didn’t blame him. 

He kept doing the things he did. Put the light on. See how grotesque he was. Even before shouting at Brock, he knew that the attractive male would never like a heap of shit like him. 

‘No one finds you attractive. Everyone finds you ugly. The people that say you are just feel sorry for you. You ugly burden. Die already.’

“I will, don’t worry.” Andrew normally talked to the thoughts, normally agreeing with them. He looked at the pills, slowly putting his fingers around their bottle. He slowly screwed the cap open, and his eyes widened. 

He never gotten the pill bottle open before. 

Andrew was making progress. 

He smiled truly for the first time in months, the joy going through his body. It was like his thoughts were awarding him. He wouldn’t have anyone to annoy. He wouldn’t have anyone to hate him. He wouldn’t have the people he made a burden of himself anymore. 

“There you go. Take them. Kill yourself, people would like that. Cora will. Mookie will. Jackie will. Mitch will. That pretty crush of yours, Brock, would love that so much! They all hate you.’

(wait)

(do you really want to do this?)

(do you think brock actually wants you to die?)

The hope started coming to him. He always heard these thoughts. Every time in an attempt.

They aren’t true, Andrew dragged out another wail. He doesn’t care about me. 

He looked at his suicide note again. Everything was going perfect. He smiled again, ignoring the small pleas of hope. They were never true. He dumped some pills onto his hand. This hand was used to scratch himself with, normally at the sides. It didn’t hurt that much, however a couple of times it did. One time it kept on bleeding for two hours. 

Those scars were still there. Month old. No one has seen them. Wait. Jackie did.

They got in the shower, and Jackie pointed them out. Andrew remembered clearly. As he remembered the experience, he dumped more of those lovely oval objects in his hand. 

“Benny, what are those? Those scars?” Jackie looked dead at them, surprised. “Are those, self-”

Andrew shut him up immediately. “No.”

“Then what are they?” Jackie’s face looked actually serious, and he had his hand out close to the scars, but not touching them. 

“There was a cat.” Andrew lied, and played it off with a laugh. “I was walking down at the Common, and there was a stray cat. I picked it up and it clung to my sides. It hurt a lot.”

‘Stay focus. Don’t listen to the past. This matters now. Don't waste time, just kill yourself already.’

Andrew nodded and lifted his palm close to his mouth. He was finally going to do it. Another fulfilling joy went to his body, and another, and-

“Benny! I got you chips, and a little something else!"

With that quick response, Andrew froze.

Why was he here. He didn’t like him anymore. Andrew quickly dumped all the pills in his mouth, and tried to swallow.

‘Hurry up, hurry up, HURRY UP.’

He couldn’t. Tears were pouring out of his eyes, his hand wanting to scratch his sides again. He gladly let them, and this time is was as much as the time they were bleeding. It hurt. His shirt was beginning to be lightly stained with red. 

“Andrew, are you in the bathroom again?” Brock yelled across the door. “Andrew, you need to know that you are really attractive.”

They were screaming now. 

‘DON’T LISTEN, DO THIS. YOU NEEDED THIS. SWALLOW THEM.’

Then Andrew felt the need to, he felt a familiar itch in his throat, the itch of when food went down his throat. Instead this wasn’t food, it was the thing he lived so long for. 

Then he felt a hand over his throat. Andrew opened his eyes. 

“Spit them out, Andrew. Spit them the fuck out!” Brock screamed, his voice was demanding. It was the scariest thing that Andrew ever heard. However he refused. The pills were still lodged in his throat. He was this close.

And that made Brock even more aggressive. He jammed his fingers in Andrew’s mouth, making the younger feel even more frightened. Andrew couldn’t breath. Soon it would be overdosing or passing out. He’d love both. But then the feeling happened.

All of a feeling he felt nauseous and he had to vomit. Brock must of saw this, since he slowly let his fingers out and let Andrew vomit, decomposing the pills in his mouth during the process. 

“Is that all?” Brock snarled. 

I thought you would be okay with it, like it even, Andrew looked at him. He was on the floor now, his back against the sink’s cabinet, however Brock’s hand was still around his throat. Then the blonde let it go, Andrew began speaking.

“It is.” 

His voice was barely a whisper, but it was shaky to show how desperate he was. Andrew never been so desperate to end his life. Brock was right there, angry at him, while he was curled up on the bathroom floor with a small trail of tears going down his disgusting fat cheeks. He covered his hands over his face to hide his distraught appearance, and he wailed.

“Why wouldn’t you let me do it?”

“Benny-”

“Why wouldn’t you let me fucking do it?” Andrew sneered, now looking at Brock with disgust, that disgust was mostly for himself. “I wanted this for so long, Brock. So fucking long! This was going to be my chance!”

“Andrew, I-”

“This was gonna be the one I succeed, Brock.” Andrew shrunk in a ball again, crying or the third or fourth time today. He couldn’t keep count. His sides hurt, his throat hurt, his mind hurt.

“What do you mean by the one?” Andrew opened his eyes again to see Brock now crouching in front of him, his face becoming more nervous. “You did this more than once?”

The younger wiped his eyes and made his fingers go through his stale hair. “I think this is my eight or eleventh. I lost count. But I’ve never been so far, to just put them in my mouth like that. Why did you have to come back?”

The lost boy just stood there, looking at a player he longed for love, admired, and wished he would never come back to see him in a disgusting mess that he was in. He was actually surprised as Brock started stroking his hair. 

Andrew could see small droplets of tears fall of his eyes. 

“Because, I wanted too.” The sweet memorizing voice of Brock calmed down Andrew so much, the tears seemed to pause on his face. “Why did you never tell me? You know that I’m always here.”

Andrew looked at Brock with his plebeian eyes, and let him gesture his head to his heart. Andrew never heard it before. The sound of Brock’s heartbeat. He liked it. Then, he spoke. 

“I don’t want to be even more of a burden, Brock.” 

“Baby, you’re not a burden.”

He called me baby. Andrew whispered in the back of his head. 

“But-”

“Andrew.” Brock sighed and sniffled shortly after. Andrew felt one of Brock's tears fall onto his messy hair. “You, you aren’t a burden. I want to help you. Benny, you’re my best friend. I don’t want any harm on you. I especially don’t want you to kill youself. No one does.”

“Well, why does everyone hate me then?” Andrew cried softly, and he started to rub his bulky thumb on Brock’s well physiqued arm to make his mind not to focus on his horrible mind.

(yes do that)

(brock loves you he won’t mind)

“Benny, please don’t tell me you confidence is that bad.” Brock cried out. Andrew could see waterfalls coming out of his beautiful eyes. A few dripped on Andrew’s forehead. “People love you, Benny. People find you attractive, you wonder why the games been getting so popular? It’s because you with your nice looks and sweet personality.”

Andrew shook his hideous head. He couldn’t believe it. Those were lies, all of them were lies, lies, l-

“Benny, stop.” Brock muttered as he wiped away one of his tears. “Stop, stop. Listen to yourself. If you are ugly then I’m on a hockey team. It’s untrue. You brighten everyone up, heck, Cora was telling me today that you’re getting out of your slump,and he meant it.What do you think Mookie, Jackie, Mitch, Raffy, everyone, me, gonna do without you?”

“I, I don’t know.” Andrew started to feel claustrophobic even though he wasn’t even in a small space. He was just so frightened just getting asked that. What will they do if he ever succeeded? Without telling himself that they would be happy, his might started to think.

“They would be lost.” Brock’s answer was the same as Andrew’s. “People would be sad, Benny. I do know Devers would never get over it, or Mitch. They would never feel that happiness again. Everyone will not get over it. And I, I would, I would…”

“What?” Andrew was so scared he couldn’t even peep. But he just did. 

“God Benny.” Brock sobbed, and Andrew could feel the grip of his hug feel tighter and he stopped stroking his hair. “I don’t, I don’t know. Andrew, you are my best friend. And I’ll never forget that. You mean so fucking much to me. Knowing that you killed yourself and I didn’t do anything to prevent it would break me so much, Benny. Andrew, in all fucking seriousness, I would not know how to live life happy anymore. I’d probably kill myself too, when you think of it. 

“That’s how much you mean to me. I would be lost without you. Meeting you is the best thing in my life. Now lets bandage your hips up?” Brock sniffled, brushing his hands in Andrew’s hair. The feeling felt very relaxing to him and he was so enchanted by the feeling, he felt like in a dreamland. 

“Benny, I’m gonna pull up your shirt, kay?” Brock’s gentle voice broke his thoughts, and Andrew nodded. He sniffled as Brock carefully pulled some of his shirt off. Another tear came out of his eye when he heard Brock gasp.

“Oh, Benny.” Brock shivered out. Andrew looked at his hips and never realized how screwed they were. Some of the scratch marks stopped bleeding. Multiple of them were still bleeding. 

I am so fucked up, Andrew pondered in his head when Brock cupped his cheeks like he was an angel. “I’m, I’m sorry Brock, For this, all of it.”

“It’s okay, Benny,” Brock exhaled. “Just don’t do it again. Tell me when you’re feeling like this, or anyone really. We all care about you.”

When Brock curved his mouth, Andrew did the same with response, happily knowing that he would help him get through the pain of his voice. 

(thank you)

(you will be free from thought now, andrew)


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After Brock found Andrew trying to kill himself, Brock tells Cora which someone hears them.

That’s where the story began. It wouldn’t end.

After Brock bandaged his sides up, he insisted that he was going to sleep with Andrew. 

It wasn’t sexual or anything, it was more comforting. Andrew’s head was buried in Brock's chest slowly falling asleep. Brock was rubbing his back to soothe him, and it did work. 

His sides still hurt, but with one of Brock’s arms around him, it made him feel less pain.

But one thing stuck with Andrew. 

“Baby, you’re not a burden,” was in his head.

Andrew was known to be a curious person, and especially was curious when someone called him such an odd name. And the way how Brock said it, the comment made Andrew get all fluttery inside. Then he built the courage to whisper, “Brock?” 

“Yes?” the older man seemed still wide awake and his grip of Andrew seemed to get a bit tighter. “What is it?”

“Why’d you call me baby?” Andrew muttered and he shifted again to make himself more comfortable. 

Brock paused and he started gliding his fingers in Andrew’s hair. “I’ll tell you tomorrow, okay?”

“Mmhmm.” Andrew muttered. He focused on the hand going up and down, relaxing him. His eyes were dry and he was now tired. He wasn’t tired at life, but he still had a long way to go. Long way. But Brock helped him start on his journey. He wasn’t going to take any pills to die from or scratch his sides, he was taking a leap from start. 

\-----

It was early in the morning, and Brock was slowly waking up. He urged himself to stay awake so Andrew wouldn’t try and kill himself. However he failed.  
His heart almost pounded out of his throat when he didn’t have Andrew in his arms.  
Brock looked around and he could see Andrew on the apartment floor tying his shoes. Brock smiled, his anxiety going away, and he patted his friend on his head. “You scared me.”  
“I’m really sorry.” Andrew said in response. “I woke up at eight, I didn’t want to wake you. You should get ready. It’s ten.”

Brock rolled his eyes at the clock on the desk. He took a seat on the bed that was not used yesterday and looked at Andrew. He looked handsome like always, and he was already in his jersey. “I don’t care. I’ll get ready at ten thirty.”

When the younger player looked at him, Brock’s world changed. It normally did when Andrew looked at him and smiled. The experience was just so magical for him. He exchanged the smile and they both giggled.

“So about the baby thing…” Andrew stated, and Brock could tell he was uncomfortable bringing it up. 

This made Brock remember and he started to flush. 

Why did he do that?

He remembered the face. The poor face. The pills. The tears. Everything that made Brock upset. He was so desperate to understand what was wrong in Andrew’s mind he accidentally called him “baby”. Only couples did that. Mookie always called his girlfriend “his baby”, but what was Andrew to Brock.

“His Baby”.

That’s what Brock wanted to call him though. He remembered Andrew against his chest, crying helplessly and he called him baby. Brock, of course, immediately regretted calling him that, but luckily Andrew didn’t seem to mind the name. 

“You, you.” Brock tried to find and answer, and he got a very sloppy one that was rushed. “You’re very important to me, Benny. I guess very important, I called you that. What I’m trying to say here, I like you.”

There was a pause in the room. He looked at Andrew, who’s smile quickly vanished. This was a terrible place to say his feelings. After a night convincing the guy he loved not to commit suicide. Brock looked away, his cheeks quickly turning hot with embarrassment. Then there was a sharp knock on the door.

“If your changed get out, practice is gonna start at this stadium. If you aren’t get changed.” it was Cora, Brock could tell since there apartment room was right next to Brock and Andrew’s. 

“I gotta leave.” Andrew whispered and Brock noticed when he said it, he wasn’t even making eye contact. 

You made a fool of yourself, Brock Wyatt Holt. 

Brock watched as the door shut, making a loud noise in the silent room. He got his jersey, and noticed a bag in the corner. It was near the bathroom. He slowly crept up to it, and noticed a bag of chips that Andrew requested, some cheap Hershey chocolates, and a fresh new Blues jersey, Andrew’s favorite hockey team.

\-----

Brock never minded the Orioles. Probably because they sucked and they gave the Red Sox an easy win. But after a game that was 13-2, Brock thought everyone was very excited for a potential sweep of the team. 

The blonde eyed J.D., who smiled like he was asking how it went out last night with all the cute gifts to Andrew. Brock shook his head. 

“Sometimes it just doesn’t work.” J.D. responded. “Maybe give him some time, or something like that.” Then the designated hitter smiled, and shuffled Brock’s hair with his hand and went to speak to Mookie. Mookie seemed happy. People looked happy. 

Everyone looked happy except Andrew. He was doing a crossword puzzle that looked ancient, but it gave him something to focus on. Something to focus on after the dumb confession. Brock could also see another unhappy face. Alex Cora himself.

“Brock, I need to talk to you.” Normally Cora was very calm towards Brock, but not today. And Brock knew what the manager was going to ask him. When they got in a private corner of the guest clubhouse, Cora seemed to face Brock serious eyes. 

“What happened last night?” 

Brock nodded in his head. He knew this would be what Cora was going to ask him on the second when he laid eyes with his manager. “Uh, well…”

He had to keep it short, he knew that. “I walked on Benny trying to overdose and kill himself.”

Brock somewhat wailed at the first part, since the experience of seeing Andrew so helpless was still fresh in his mind. He tried to look at his manager’s face to see any expressions or concerns, but instead, Cora responded his emotions.

“Benny tried to kill himself?” the manager spoke, his voice shivering. When Brock nodded, the manager put his fingers on the bridge of his nose. “Oh, god. Is that why you were screaming so loud?”

“Yeah. I was trying to get him to stop.” 

“Fuck. Is, is he fine?”

That’s a question that Brock even asked himself. Was Andrew actually going to be okay? Sure, Brock knew he still had a long way to go to get out of his awful, low self-confidence mind of his, but still. Was he going to attempt again. “I don’t know. I mean, as his best friend, I don’t even know. I don’t know if he’s going to commit suicide again, Cor-”

“Who tried to commit suicide?” 

The loud booming voice startled Brock and he looked to see who it was. Mitch. He was in a Red Sox sweatshirt to show that he was on the injured list even though he insisted on playing. 

Mitch repeated again, but slowly this time. “Who tried to commit suicide?”

Brock looked to the floor, his mind buzzing. How am I going to tell this to him this… 

“Benny.” He finally managed to say. Brock looked up at Mitch to see his expressions. He knew Mitch would feel sad since he practically loved Andrew like a nephew or that shit, but he didn’t expect what he was going to do. 

His eyes immediately started pouring rivers, and he seemed to be whispering little “Oh God”s and “Holy fuck”s. The large southerner seemed to be actually breaking down at the response. “Why? Why the hell did he do that?”

“Low self-confidence.” Brock peeped, telling himself not to cry. He wanted to just sob with Mitch since the attempt shooken up him still. “He had many. This was the one that I was there to stop him.” 

Then the southerner didn’t get the best of his emotions and started stomping out, his voice hissing when he called Andrew. Brock trudged toward him to stop him and not make a scene, but he was too late. The blonde looked back at Cora, who was looking at the direction of thought he was in, knowing one of his boys tried to kill themselves on multiple occasions. 

\-----

Andrew looked at the word. The end had a T and it was five words. 

32 - Large bowl, used in Scotland

Normally there were two things that kept him busy from his thoughts. Brock and crossword puzzles. This one was surprisingly hard, it was from a newspaper from 2016. Rafael gave it to him when he was at the Commons not so long ago and found in near the playground. 

He started to think, and he felt like it was going to begin with an A, and then…

Ashet!

Brock taught him the word around a year ago. But he still couldn’t believe it. 

Brock had feelings for him. But Andrew, who was so flabbergasted about the confession, left him in the room by himself. He wanted to kiss Brock so bad then just feel his hands on his face, but he was so goddamn awkward to just do it. He studied at his crossword puzzle again, not minding the world and only minding six boxes to indicate a six letter word.

“Benny!”

The large voice of Mitch startled the young player and he looked up from the rotting newspaper, to see the large southerner with tears coming out of his eyes. 

‘You’re the one that started this, he feels sorry for you’

(shut up)

The whole clubhouse was looking at them now, making feel like Andrew had a lot of explaining to do. Mitch wrapped his arms around him and sobbed into Andrew’s shoulder like a scared puppy. 

“Benny, why?” his accent was the only one that was heard in the dead silent clubhouse. Andrew looked up, and he locked eyes with Brock, who was behind Mitch, his face was perplexed and worried. The attractive blonde sniffled with response to Mitch, causing Andrew to look down again.

He didn’t like to see Brock sad, especially after last night. 

“Mitch, I’m fine.” Andrew cooed in response to the tears that padded on his shoulder like hail.

“Oh shut up!” Mitch yelled. He stood up, with his hand still on Andrew’s cheek, like he was a puppy. “You’re not fine, Andrew.”

Another voice came from nowhere. “What the hell happened? What happened Andrew? Mitch?”

Everyone in the clubhouse turned to face the towering Chris Sale. He already had his jersey on, like he was all set to go. Andrew could see the cold eyes of him. Andrew admitted he was scared. He was always somewhat scared of Chris from his tall size, but who doesn’t? Andrew especially felt scared now, since the whole team was going to figure out about what happened last night with him and Brock. The whole feeling of that already made his eyes wet and he put his hand to quickly wipe the first tear away. 

Andrew could also see that Mitch started to know that his emotions got the best of his actions. The whole room was still silent, it almost made Andrew so uncomfortable and anxious. Someone tell them to get this shit over.

Mitch was the one to begin first and quickly. “Benny, I uh, Benny tried to kill himself.”

The clubhouse still went silent. Well, Andrew could hear some few mutters, but he could understand that most people didn’t believe Mitch. 

“Is that right, Benny?” Chris calmly said, his ice colored eyes had a hint of worry in them. “You can say it.”

‘They all want you dead, don’t tell them.’

Andrew started to whimper slightly, wishing that he and only Brock known this. He would be fine with Cora knowing this, since he’s the fucking manager, but everyone? When raindrops fell from his eyes, he decided to tell them.

Andrew nodded his head and whimpered more and he looked to the ground and whispered. “I did, so many times. Brock stopped me last night.”

The whole entire clubhouse was silent. At first Andrew tried to think about something to change his mind to a different topic rather than, oh everyone knows now. 

It just went to why Mitch got so emotional in front of everyone though. 

Then someone spoke. “Andrew.”

Jackie. 

Andrew looked up from Mitch, who was crying in Andrew’s lap and stroking his arm, to see the number 19 inch closer to him. “Those things weren’t caused by a cat, were they?”

“Benny, you cut too?” Mookie’s voice echoed through the room right after Jackie’s comment. 

Andrew didn’t answer. He didn’t want to tell anyone at all. He didn’t want to make others feel sorry for him, be a burden, all of that shit. Andrew almost got up from his seat and ran out of the room when Jackie carefully lifted the end of his shirt to show the other his bandage sides. 

The bandages were starting to peel off, they were bandaids. Since they were like this, some of the scars were poking out. “Oh, Andrew.”

The young left fielder shivered as he felt his fellow outfielder’s arms. He didn’t like this “poor me” attention. Andrew looked up to see if Brock was in the same place. He wasn’t. Andrew tried to look for him with his crying eyes, but he only saw his teammates go closer and closer to him. 

A few teardrops patterned on his forehead, causing him to look up at Mookie. The fellow outfielder patted Andrew’s head and sniffled. Mitch got up from the ground to wipe his eyes and Nate quickly took his place. Andrew wasn’t really close to Nate as the other guys, he was still close but not that close. Nate’s large puppy love eyes looked up to Andrew. 

“I knew something was up when I talked to you the other day.” Nate whispered in his calming voice. He was right however, Andrew and the chatty pitcher were having a small chat. Andrew couldn’t remember what it was, but he did know that he tried to overdose that night. “You seemed so sad.”

“How long have you been attempting?” Xander said in his thick accent behind him. 

“I think a month after spring training ended.” The response was cold yet emotional at the same time. “I don’t really remember.” 

The amount of people that was swarming towards Andrew made him actually uncomfortable. He wasn’t even crying the hardest, it was most likely Micheal, who was the rookie of the group but was packed full of heart. Jackie and Mookie were probably also crying as hard as him too, but Micheal was a loud cryer. He gained more attention from Andrew as the young player put his hand on the depressed baseball player in the center of the cry fest. 

There were some people that weren’t crying in the mix too. Their expressions were still shocked and sad, but these people just didn’t cry never. Chris was one of them, Christian (even though he looked like he was about to burst with tears), and little Rafael. 

The young player who looked like a sixth grader was just standing there. There was no emotion to his face. Just standing there. Andrew thought he would at least shed a tear, but he could understand why Rafael was like this too. He didn’t really like to get in situations like this. 

Andrew’s attention turned to Nunez. He had his arms wrapped around his neck and was crying on Andrew’s right shoulder. 

Andrew loved affection. He really did. He loved hugging his fellow teammates, bonding with them, having fun, but this. Everyone surrounded him. Knowing what happened. Knowing that Andrew had to be watched. Knowing that he, in fact, was suicidal. 

“Guys, I know this is a very serious thing but the game is going to be in thirty minutes. We need to get prepared now.” Cora shouted over the wails and wet eyes. Andrew thanked him silently with his drying eyes as the people who were just surrounded him got up and went back into preparing. 

“Benny.”

“Brock.” Andrew responded to the player who suddenly appeared near the door that lead to the dugout. The young player ran quickly into him and wrapped his arms around his waist and silently cried into his chest. “How did Mitch find out?”

“Me and Cora were talking and he heard.” Brock began, his voice so soft compared to the pitter patter of salt water draining from the once dry eyes. It was incredible how fast they became wet again. “I didn’t know he was going to breakdown like that.”

“I wish you didn’t.” Andrew mumbled. 

Someone walked passed them and they did a small pat on Andrew’s shoulder. It felt like a Rick pat, but Andrew didn’t check to see if he was right. 

“Do you want some food? I have some gummy worms.” Andrew lifted his head to see Brock’s kind smile and curved his lips to do the same. It was actually nice and relaxing to hug the handsome player, especially when Andrew had a crush on him. Brock was still acting a bit awkward from the confession, but Andrew didn’t mind. 

He was just Brock. 

That was good enough.

“I would like that.” Andrew let his grasp onto the older man go. Brock did a beckoning motion to him, and they scurried around the still shocked teammates to Brock’s locker. Andrew rested his back on the fine wood and watched Brock’s muscular arm reach inside his black bag and pulled up a packet of sour gummy worms. 

“My favorite.” Andrew sniffled, and he quickly dried his wet cheeks, the cheeks that were also red from blushing. It took a bit to rip the beg open, but when he did, he grabbed a small handful and immediately put them in his mouth. 

As he swallowed, he felt relieved that the chewed gummies weren’t harm and cylinder shaped. They weren’t pills. Andrew looked around at his team, wondering if they were proud of him being happy. 

They all had their eyes on him.

Everyone. 

Andrew looked at Brock, who wasn’t staring at him, but was staring at the watch on his wrist. It was better than feeling uncomfortably watched by everyone. 

“You want some?” Having a conversation will probably help. 

“Sure.” Brock responded and took a quick glare to Andrew’s eyes. The younger player this time succeeded to not flush this time. He handed Brock the bag and tried not to look at all the eyes on him. 

He failed.

Andrew knew that people would be nervous and had their eyes on him. But he was surprised how the feeling was.

The feeling felt extremely claustrophobic. No one was around Andrew, but all the eyes that were gazed on him made him feel like he was in a compact place where everyone was going to follow him. 

‘Those eyes will totally think you’d be a burden someday!’

There it went. That voice. Andrew shook his head and lowered it to the ground as the thoughts started to come back again for him. “Brock?” 

He looked at the handsome player, and it looked like he ate most of the gummy worms. “Ya bud?” 

“Can we go to the dugout?” Andrew pleaded. “Please?”

Brock nodded and brought his mouth to Andrew’s ear. “I’m really sorry that happened. Did it jack you up?”

Andrew nodded and Brock nodded in response. They quickly left the room and started walking towards the stadium field. Andrew’s eyes softened,happily knowing that no one was watching him anymore.

“Did you hate the glares you got?” Brock seemed to know everything. 

“Yeah. It was really uncomfortable.” 

“There gonna stop. Probably halfway to the game. It’s not always going to be forever. Do you trust me?”

“I always would trust you.” Andrew remarked, smiling as they got the field and started doing stretches.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This took a while ! I'm very sorry !


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> last chapter i guess

Brock wasn’t right, but then again he was. Andrew would realize an hour after the game. 

After doing a single at his first at bat, Andrew got cries of happiness from the dugout. Andrew eyed at Brock when he heard, and the attractive man pointed his thumbs up.

After Rafael struck out and the top of the inning was finished, Andrew got the most softest pats on the back and hugs from multiple players. When he got to Brock, Andrew made a cringed face. 

“That was a nice single, Andrew.” Brock muttered. 

“Thanks.” Andrew shrugged in response. “It still feels weird.”

“It’s not gonna be in an instant. The longer they will take the more they will care about you. Trust me, this team is going to think of your attempt for probably a few weeks. They really care about you.”

“I know, it’s just.” Andrew looked at Brock’s hand, and he wanted to feel it with own. “I don't want to be like a burden someday.”

Before Brock could answer, LeVangie called for their names and the two exited the dugout. Brock smiled again and Andrew joined his fellow outfielders.

When he got to the place his card told him, he was interrupted by the calls of Jackie. 

“Andrew!”

Andrew froze up and looked over and did a quick wave to Jackie. That familiar itch to his sides, but remembering Brock let him put his hands down and focus back on Jackie.

“Andrew!” Jackie screamed out and his voice echoed in left field. “You’re going to do amazing! Let’s do it, man!”

\---

Andrew was doing okay with being in left field. Barely any balls were hit at him, but the ones that were he caught. When it was the top of the inning though and Brock wasn’t around, that was the dreadful part.

“Hi, Benny.” Sandy spoke. He sat right next to Andrew and starting to pat his back softly. “Can we talk?”

“Yeah, yeah sure.” Andrew shifted his hands together. He wasn’t really close to the catcher. They were still friends, but Andrew only talked to him once around three games. “What’s up?”

“Benny, you shouldn’t do that to yourself.” Sandy began, and that’s when Andrew started to know that multiple people were going to have these small talks.

“I was depressed when I was in highschool. Now look at me, Benny I believe in you!” J.D. said.

“You’re a sweet kid, and doing suicide will never be the answer.” David said. 

“A person in my grade committed suicide, and they were never realized that they got an invitation to Harvard. Something good will come,” Nate said.

There were many more people, but the monotone voices they all spoke in sounded like Andrew’s stupid guidance counselor in middle school. 

‘they are all speaking this way because you are such a burden.’

Brock then stuck out, and Nate went away talking to Chris. Most likely shit talking about the suicidal player anyway.

Brock sat right next to him, and Andrew all of a sudden forcefully grabbed Brock’s hand, not caring what happened earlier that day.

“Woah, Benny. You okay?” 

Andrew looked at him, not caring about the pink face Brock had and more of the ability of trying to retract his tears.

“Benny, Benny,” Brock clearly noticed. “You okay?”

“I don’t like it.” Andrew bit his lip and then shook his head. ‘I’m just acting like a huge fucking baby, Brock. I don’t like this attention. And I don’t want it to happen right now, where we are right now being filmed. I don’t want people to see me being like this.”

“It’s the sixth inning, Benny. It’s gonna be fine.” Brock barely made assurance in Andrew’s mind. “Listen, so I have chips at the hotel. How ‘bout after we can snack on them. Are you okay with that?”

“Yeah.” Andrew nodded. “I wouldn’t know what to do without you.”

“Same, Benny.” Brock smiled. “Do you want to watch a movie tonight? Goonies?”  
`  
Andrew nodded and let go of Brock’s hand, and wrapped it around Brock’s shoulder. “I would really like that. God, I’m so blessed to have you though.”

Brock responded with a smile, and right there Andrew wished he had the guts to tell him that he loved him. 

\---

When Brock’s foot met with first base, he turned around to see Andrew run home. He got there, and Brock smiled. Andrew looked back at him, and Brock waved.

Andrew waved back.

Brock watched as he received a butt slap from Rafael and when he got to the dugout he was delivered hugs of compassion. Brock had to admit that being in Andrew’s shoes in his eyes would also feel super uncomfortable. The hugs and small conversations that he got didn’t seem fake, but more claustrophobic.

Multiple eyes were on him and it just made the whole dugout feel packed. Brock did know this was out of fear from the great teammate, but he also wished that it would stop very soon. 

\---

After the game, the team celebrated the win against the scrappy team of Baltimore, and Brock did high fives to everyone. When Andrew came up from the ten people that came before him, Brock didn’t hug him like everyone else. 

Andrew did a quick smile and he gripped Brock’s hand for the high five for a second and then moved on to Workman getting another large bear hug. 

When Brock was done with all the high fives and good jobs (there were thank yous in there, most likely because he saved Andrew), he went right next to Andrew and he smiled.

“Thank god that’s over.” Andrew muttered. 

“Same, honestly.” Brock responded, and he noticed Andrew inch closer to him.

You don’t have to pretend you like me, Brock whispered in his head. “Not gonna lie, everyone is bringing you attention that seems even weird for me. It’s probably ‘cause I never had this situation before.” 

“It’s not everybody.” Andrew assured, looking at Brock with his sweet puppy dog eyes. “Raffy, Xander, and Mookie kept their distance honestly. I think Mookie already knows, he’s a master of body language.”

“Yeah he is.” Brock agreed and when they went on the clubhouse, most eyes went on Andrew, looking at every move he made. Brock cringed and he guided him to his locker. Brock peered at Andrew’s reaction, and he was trembling. 

And that drove Brock to the edge. 

“He’s gonna be fine guys.” the blonde snarled loudly, getting everyone’s attention in the clubhouse. “Can you please stop fucking worrying? It’s getting on his fucking nerves! Just can you please, just go back to fucking changing? Jesus...”

Brock turned around and started to unbutton his jersey, not caring if his teammates would snap at him back. 

“You didn’t have to do that, you know.” the soft voice contrasted his anger and Brock turned his head to see Andrew putting some things away in his locker. 

“Benny, they are making you unco-”

“I know, it’s just…” then Andrew all of a sudden started walking away, and then his speed became quick. Brock tried to follow, but then his phone started buzzing in his pocket. As he stopped, Rafael went after him, and Brock knew with the young kid Andrew was going to be fine. 

He reached his phone from his pocket, and when he answered, he could tell some women was annoyed on the other end.

“Hi, Brock Holt. You forgot to pay for the rent of your truck, please come down and actually fucking pay for this thing? I can call the police.”

Brock froze and he looked in the direction Andrew ran off and then imagined not being in the game tomorrow and not seeing Andrew because he was in jail. “Oh sorry about that. Yeah, I’ll be there in 20 minutes.”

The lady hung up, and Brock gulped, hoping Andrew would be okay without him.

\---

Andrew hated it. 

‘All eyes on you. All the eyes thought you should die.’

But Brock wanted him to live, Brock. Brock loved him helped him, Brock saved him-

And all of a sudden, he felt some of cuts ripped open again and he fell on the ground, blood pouring out a bit profusely. 

Andrew shook, and he looked at his torn up white jersey now being stained lightly with blood. He pressed his hand onto the blood to try to stop the blood flow and he screamed in pain. 

“Benny?” He heard Xander call back, and Andrew heard some Spanish from Rafael. 

And when they came to the vision of Andrew’s eyes, Rafael squatted down and examined the wound. 

“Is anyone else coming?” Andrew muttered, the pain was so strong he had tears in his eyes. He didn’t want to drag attention, mostly to the people who did approach him like an uncomfortable therapist.

“No,” Xander muttered. He said something in Spanish to Rafael and Rafael jogged into the clubhouse. “What happened?”

“I got scared and ran off,” Andrew started explaining, and he felt like a pussy. “And then I fell and that happened.”

Xander swished his head around quickly and then set his eyes on Andrew. “I think you cut yourself with a table.”

“A fucking table?” 

The brunette with the help of Xander got up in a sitting position. There he realized that he was in the dugout where absolutely no one except him and Xander. The sun was still up in the air and Camden Yards was silent. And that’s when Andrew saw a table with the side streaked with some blood. He saw it before during the game, but oddly it looks too sharp. 

“I fucking hate Baltimore.” Andrew hissed under his breath. “Is Raffy getting…”

“He’s getting bandages, don’t worry.” Xander explained. He started tugging at the end of Andrew’s shirt and Andrew let him, leaving the younger shirtless. There he exposed all the cuts that were healing and some scars he did a few months ago, and on his left side was a dark red streak that was gushing out blood like there was no tomorrow. 

“A table did that?” Andrew hissed, tears streaming down his cheeks from the pain. 

“It looks like it’s made in this city. Don’t worry, Raffy’s here.” 

Andrew opened his eyes to see the younger player went on his knees and his hands shook, almost dropping the bandages. They were bandages that Andrew would just put on a blister, but anything would be fine from the stinging pain. 

“¿Benny va a estar bien?” Rafael asked, his voice was timid. This was the first time of the day that Rafael actually spoke to Andrew, or about him, and Andrew was a bit shocked. 

He barely knew what he meant because he took French instead of Spanish, but he could figure out what he was saying for an odd reason. 

“I’m fine, Raffy.” Andrew choked out and the pressure of Xander pressing a bandage on the deep cut made a tear fall out of his eyes. For the second time that day Andrew looked like he made waterfalls appear from his eyes, but he seemed comfortable with the people that didn’t nag him that day. 

That made him remember the thought of the most comfortable and handsome person.

“Where’s Brock?”

“He had to leave.” Xander spoke, again pressing a bandage to the cut. His hands were drenched in blood. “You know the truck he rented? He had to go or he was going to get arrested.”

“Oh, that makes sense, shit, shit…” Rafael gave his hand to Andrew, and he took it and squeezed it, but it didn’t lessen the pain.

“Se ven más profundos cuando estás más cerca.” Rafael barely spoke. That’s something that Andrew didn’t know.

Then something came to his head. Brock wouldn’t know how Andrew would get the large wound . Andrew could just tell him, but at the moment after what happened last night, he knew it wouldn’t work. “Brock’s not going to think that-”

“I’ll come, then,” Xander responded quickly and pressed the last bandaid on Andrew’s skin. The cut was starting to stop bleeding, but it still fucking hurt. 

“¿Puedo ir al hotel contigo?” Rafael whispered and he let go of Andrew’s hand. 

“What does he mean, Xander?” Andrew tried to get up and Xander lend him a hand. It took a bit to get the wounded player to get up, but when he did, Xander finally answered. 

“He wants to go with us. You are fine with that, right?”

Andrew wanted to be by himself. He really did. He wanted to be at home watching the stupid Goonies with Brock and curl up against him with Xander quickly telling what happened. But when Andrew looked into the eyes of the sweet third basemen, he couldn’t say no. 

\---

 

The three of them took the bus back to the hotel, and it was a bit of a struggle, so Rafael helped Andrew a bit. Andrew insisted that they sat in the back, and luckily they didn’t mind. 

“Andrew?” Xander said all of a sudden. Andrew before that was just looking out the window, seeing all the life outside the city of Baltimore. He turned to Xander and yawned. 

“Yeah?”

“You had a nice single today.” Xander patted his back. “Singles I meant. Sorry you get all the attention, I bet it fucking sucks.”

“It’s fine.” Andrew shrugged. “I just gotta get used to it. I guess I did have good singles today.”

“Is there bandaids at the hotel too? I missed a spot and it’s bleeding I think.”

“Yeah, there is bandaids. Thanks for doing this.” Andrew smiled, relieved that Xander’s tone of voice didn’t have so much anxiety. 

Xander nodded and Andrew looked at Rafael, who gave a look back. With Xander in between them and the language barrier, there wasn’t any talk between them.

\---

“Here’s the key.” Andrew gave Xander the key, and then slumped his weight on Rafael, who didn’t seem to mind. Xander opened the door and they went inside. Andrew sat on one of the beds and Rafael sat right next to him, while Xander opened the door and gasped.

“It smells like shit in here!” The Aruban exclaimed. “What’s this stuff on the floor?”

Andrew gulped and bit his lip.

“When I was swallowing the pills, Brock stuck his fingers into my throat to make me vomit. I’m sorry that I haven’t picked it up.” Andrew shuddered, remembering the cries from Brock and wanting of pills. 

“Oh it’s fine. I can clean up, you know.” Xander hollered from the bathroom. “Also you ran out of band aids. 

“We musta used them last night.” Andrew shrugged. “It’s fine.”

“I have them in my room. I’ll be back.” Xander went out of the bathroom. “Raffy, miras a Benny.”

Then he left and that left Andrew and Rafael. 

“Benny?”

Andrew looked at Rafael, and the younger pointed at the hem of the shirt, Andrew nodded and took his shirt off, suspecting that Rafael was telling him to get it off for the bandages. 

Some of the older ones from last night were already starting to peel off, some completely off and exposing the pain. 

“Benny?”

“Hmm?” Andrew looked at his teammate, who responded with a hug. 

The hug was tight and it did surprise Andrew. He slowly put his arms around Rafael and he heard the best attempt of Englsih language Rafael ever did. 

“Please, Benny, Please…” Rafael did a loud sob and his grip became tighter. He put his head on the base of Andrew’s shoulder. Andrew started to cry in unison as he felt teardrops patter on his shoulder.

“Benny, no mueras,” Rafael sobbed and one of his hands palmed on the hip that wasn’t cut by the stupid ass table. “Please, no mueras… Te amo, te amo. No me dejes.”

“It’s okay Raffy.” Andrew sobbed. “I’m gonna get better.” 

“Please, no te cortes.” and after that, it was only just “Please” and “Benny” after that and some shakes.

It was hard to see Rafael like this. It really was.

And after three minutes of this, Rafael finally lifted his head and wiped his eyes and Andrew wiped his. 

And for some reason, the whole scene made Andrew happy. He knew that this was what people did thought of Andrew, they wanted to cry with him. And if Andrew wasn’t correct, he still had Rafael, Brock, and somewhat Xander and Mitch.

“Hi Benny, I’m back!” 

Andrew lifted his head and when he saw who it was, he avoided eye contact immediately. “Brock let me explain-”

“Don’t worry!” a second voice came. It was Xander. “I saw him in the hall and I told him what happened!”

“Okay. Thanks.” Andrew smiled and Brock sat right next to him and putting a bandage on the place where it needed it. 

“Raffy, vamos.” Xander did a gesturing motion, and before Rafael could leave, he did a quick hug to Andrew and left.

(you do have hope)

\---

Halfway through the movie, Brock had to go up to go the bathroom. Before that, it was pretty much nothing. Andrew and him only shared a blanket, but they didn’t really snuggle. 

But Andrew wanted it. He craved it. He heard the words in his head over and over.

“Baby, you’re not a burden.”

“Baby, you’re not a burden.”

“Baby, you’re not a burden.”

They were at the point where the young kid kissed his brother’s girlfriend. That’s what Andrew thought anyway, the movie was way to confusing and had his attention to Brock. That’s when Brock got up.

“I gotta go to the bathroom.” Brock spoke, and Andrew focused on his engaging face. “Are, are you gonna be fine?”

Andrew nodded. ‘Yeah, I will. I’ll tell you everything you would miss.”

“I’m an expert at this movie, I already know.” Brock chuckled. The two paused and Andrew bit his lip, and Brock did an uncomfortable smile and walked away to the bathroom. 

Andrew watched him, and when he locked the door, he noticed a small bag near the door. It had a logo of a store that wasn't so far from the hotel, and it brought Andrew to wonder, what was in it?

Probably a dumb tracker to see where Andrew was. 

“Benny, I’m ba-”

‘What’s in the bag, Brock?” Andrew cut him off. He eyed Brock, who was in the frame of the bathroom door. And to Andrew’s surprise, he started to bite his lip. 

“Oh… that?” Brock stuttered. Just the reaction of Brock made Andrew almost have a heart attack. “It’s nothing, actually no it isn’t, ugh god…”

Now this made Andrew stand up and slowly tread to Brock. And when he was only a few feet from him, he could feel the same feeling he had when Brock confessed. 

Desperate. 

“It was, it was just… it’s just some gifts I wanted to give you.” Brock sighed and he bended over to grab the paper bag. Andrew didn’t peer inside, but kept his gaze on Brock. “I got these, I got these before I came home last night. It really pained me to see you not appreciate yourself, so I got these.”

“You did?” Andrew’s face started to flush, and he didn’t feel like he had to hide it anymore. 

“Yeah.” Brock whispered. “It was kind of a thing to tell my feelings, but it’s fine. You can keep it if you want.” 

Andrew quickly grabbed the bag and did a quick “thank you” and sat back down. Brock did the same, but he was at the other end of the couch. But Andrew didn’t keep his focus for long. 

The first thing he grabbed out of the bag was Doritos. These were probably the chips Brock was talking about at the game. Andrew handed the bag to him, and Brock took it nervously and opened it. 

The second thing was some Hersheys. Andrew could tell they were melted, but it still warmed his heart that Brock gave him his favorite type of chocolates. 

Then there was a Ryan O’Reily jersey. The Blues recently got the win from the stanley cup, so that did make Andrew a bit static than usual. And Brock knew his favorite player out of the whole team. Only Brock knew. Hold on, Xander knew but he didn’t give a shit about hockey. But Brock knew and he secretly supported the Blues too with him. It was just one of the multiple reasons why Andrew loved him so much.

Andrew quickly got his shirt off and put the jersey on and smiled at Brock, who looked even more nervous. That caused Andrew to finally pick out the last thing of the bag. 

A letter. With his name on it. 

Andrew gulped and he tore the letter open, and found a card inside. It was a card that looked boring on the outside with a funny joke on it, but then Andrew opened it. The card was filled with Brock's messy but also clean writing.

Hi Benny.  
I know this is weird. But I gotta say, for the past year or two you helped me discover something. You weren’t the funny cute boy that made teenagers drool. Well you are, but you made someone drool to. Wait not drool, just let me get to my point. Benny, when I see you, you light up my world. When I'm down, just by looking at you smile gets me so happy. You are my best friend in the whole world and I’m so glad that it is that way. But now, I realize I want something more. Benny, I love you. I really do. Not that, bro love stuff, like actually love you. I want you to be my boyfriend so fucking hard, I want to treat you how you should be treated. I want you to love yourself like how I love you. Wait that’s narcissistic. But in all honesty, for months now I don’t think you do love yourself. Benny, it breaks me. It breaks me of how such a perfect person cannot see how they really are. I want to show you how much you should love yourself and see how others think of you. I guess this is my stupid love letter, so would you be my peanut butter to my jelly?  
Brock. 

Andrew was almost on the verge of tears. He looked at Brock, who was trying to stay focused on the movie. Andrew bit his lip and grabbed Brock’s hand and squeezed. 

“Benny, you don’t have to pretend.” Brock shuttered. “I accept that you don’t like me, you don't have to impress me.”

“Brock,” Andrew whimpered, and this made Brock turn his head so he could see the tears of frustration coming out of Andrew’s eyes. 

“Benny,” Brock cooed. “It’s okay.”

“It’s not okay! I love you!” Andrew managed to get out, and when he did, he breathed out exhaustion and looked at Brock, and squeezed his hand once more. “I love you. I just, I just was too scared for my emotions this morning. I’m sorry.” 

“We like each other.” Brock whispered. “So you do?”

“For so long, Brock.” Andrew whispered, and he pressed his temple against the blonde’s. He sniffled and then he felt hands cup his wet cheeks. 

“That’s good.” Brock calmly said smiled. “Could I kiss you?”

Andrew nodded silently. He needed this. He needed the love he did deserve. And when he felt his lips touch another’s, he lightened the grip of Brock’s hand and dragged his thumb across the palm of the hand. 

The kiss was soft, there was no pressure on both sides. It was probably the best kiss Andrew had ever had. Brock’s lips were soft and felt like heaven, somewhat curing what happened for months. It was an innocent one, no tongues or moaning shit, but a sweet one. 

And when Andrew ended it and he smiled awkwardly along with Brock, he was surprised when Brock grabbed the hem of the new jersey he put on and lifted it up.

“I’m not gonna do that, promise.” Brock smiled a bit, and Andrew could see some tears form in his eyes. 

Brock instead, got rid of the bandages that were almost off completely to show the endless amount of scars and scabs on Andrew’s hips. He seemed to look at them for a bit dragging his fingers to the ones that didn’t look like they hurt. And he was correct. Then he got off the couch and got to his knees on the floor and started kissing the scabs.

He started with the ones that were the most clearest first, which were the older ones Andrew did. Each one Brock did, Andrew could see each time he did it, how helpless he was and the tears he would cry when doing them, and he could also see how they were in the past now. He was going to change. He kept focusing on Brock, who was now kissing the terrible red marks from yesterday and he could hear whispers from him too. 

“You’re gonna heal baby. On my watch. People care about you. They look up to you. Raffy wants to be you when he’s older, even Chavis.” 

And on the last scar, Andrew swore Brock kissed it extra long, he wiped his eyes and Brock stood up and sat right next to him. He was crying a bit too, and Andrew hushed him and wiped away his tears. 

“I’m the one that’s supposed to cry, Brock.” Andrew did a small laugh. 

Brock smiled and kissed Andrew’s temple. “It’s my turn, baby.”

Then Andrew snuggled into Brock, who put his arm around him and reached for a soft blanket to cover them Andrew fluttered his eyes and closed them, enjoying the warmth from Brock. 

“Hey, Benny?”

“Yeah?”

“I love you.”

“Love you too. Thank you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> and that does it !! I really hoped you enjoy reading this story! I started in middle June and I'm so glad it's finished!

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading !


End file.
